i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knives
by blackkitty95
Summary: "Good things, bad...just talk to me." Frank decides to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. [set after 2x03] [RE-WRITTEN]


My first HTGAWM fic, so I'm a little nervous, but I just couldn't resist because I love Flaurel and Laurel and Frank are my favourite characters. This story is inspired by the amazing **mea maxima culpa** by **aghamora** on AO3. I never meant to steal that author's work and I'm sorry for the fact that the original version of this was so much like that story; and that is why I've re-written it.

There might be some mistakes because English isn't my native language. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

He always hears her sweet voice. When he is alone, his mind wandering off. When he takes a shower in the morning before he heads to Annalise's office. When he lies in bed at night, trying to get some sleep and not think about her.

Sometimes it's simply her laughter he hears. Sometimes it's her panicky voice when she freaks out. Sometimes it's her calling him a misogynistic ass. Sometimes it's her moans.

Now, however, it's a different sound that haunts his every step. _Good things, bad...just talk to me_. She said those words to him. She wanted to know. _What if it's mostly bad_ _things?_ he answered. He was about to tell her, he really was. Because he trusts her. Because the thought of not seeing her every day is like a knife right through his heart. Because the possibility of her being guilty of Rebecca's murder and Annalise telling him to take care of her killed him until, fortunately, it turned out that Bonnie had done the dirty job.

The way he feels about Laurel has left him perfectly conflicted and confused. On the one hand, she is the only one he feels that he can talk to about this. Annalise is family, but he can't just go and tell her that he killed a pregnant young girl for her husband. Bonnie is his friend, but she only knows of his sexual adventures, not of the monster that he is.

On the other hand, if he comes clean to Laurel, he will drive her away. The one good thing that has happened in his screwed-up life. She has given him a second chance. She is willing and trying to get to know him better. He wants this to happen. But if he is completely honest with her, he will push her out of his life. Should he be selfish and tell her only what she can handle so that she'll stay with him? Or should he tell her everything and let the only thing that matters to him leave him forever?

He finally makes up his mind one day. He will tell her now, he says to himself, before they get back together. It will be easier now. If he gets back together with her, he'll never be able to tell her, but there will always be this big, terrifying secret separating them. No, Laurel deserves better.

He has no idea how much time has passed since he called her and asked her to come over, but then she is right there, knocking on his door. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. He is certain that he can do this - he accepted what he is a long time ago - but then he sees her bright eyes and falters. He greets her and tells her to come in, and doubt seizes him. Can he really do this? Can idealistic Laurel accept the monster that he is? No.

Does Laurel deserve the truth and someone better than him? Yes.

"Okay, I need to tell you something," he tells her and sees her shrugging off her jacket. He remembers his lips tracing her skin, from her neck to her collarbone, trailing down her sweet breasts... "Sit down."

She frowns but does as she is asked, taking a seat on his sofa. "Okay, what do you need to tell me?"

"The truth," he says; and there is no turning back now, forward is the only way to go. "If you wanna leave, run straight to the cops, or whatever, I'm not gonna stop you."

Her green eyes fix on him, worried. "Frank, what -"

"Please, just listen to me," he almost pleads with her before he loses his courage.

He takes another deep breath and kneels before her as if he is in a confessional - and this is going to be the greatest, scariest confession that he's made in his life. He reaches for her hands but thinks better of it. And then he tells her everything. He tells her about Lila, about the ones before meeting Annalise and about the ones after. He leaves nothing out. All his bloody past is revealed to her.

He expects her to scream and run out of his apartment. She should do just that. Instead, there's only silence. An enormous weight has been lifted off Frank's shoulders, but he doesn't feel relieved. This is not the reaction that he has been expecting and he doesn't know how to deal with it. She just sits there, trembling slightly, her lovely eyes glassy with tears unshed. It kills him.

"You...you killed...Lila and all those others..." She pauses. "Why did you tell me this? Are you going to kill me?"

She tries to appear calm, but he knows her too well to be able to comprehend that she is not as cool and perfectly collected as she would like him to think - he has to admit, though, that she's nowhere near panicking. That question hurts him even more than the look in her eyes. How can she think that he would do something like that? He would kill everyone in this damned world if he had to, but not her. Never her. He'd rather die.

He planned to remain stoic, reveal no emotions, but her words hurt him worse than any physical pain ever could. This time he holds her delicate hands, squeezing them, hoping that she will understand. "No!" His tone is harsh and makes her flinch. "No," he repeats, gently this time. "God, I would never hurt you, Laurel. Never. I'd rather die. I'd die for you. I love you. I..."

The words come out in a rush. He has no control over them, and it is only then that he realises what he has just told her. Fuck, why did he say that? Why does he have to make things even more complicated, even harder?

He has tears in his eyes as well now - how long has it been since the last time he cried? - and his hands tremble around hers. She doesn't pull back, not even to wipe the tears that are now running hot down her cheeks.

"Did you know about Lila's baby?" She almost sounds as though she doesn't care, like she won't be affected by the answer no matter what that is.

"Sam told me." There's no point in denying that, he's already proved to her that he's a monster.

She still doesn't move. Her own hands shake a little as well, but that is all. Why is she still here? _Go_ , he wants to tell her. _Leave, go to the police, turn me in, let me rot in jail_. He deserves it.

"Please don't leave me," he says instead, his voice thick with the tears that are threatening to fall. "Please, Laurel."

This isn't going as planned at all. Sure, she's not an innocent little lamb - she played her own part in Sam's murder and the disposal of his body, she suggested he take care of Rebecca so that she wouldn't talk - but she's not like him. How can he ask something like that of her?

"How can you ask me to stay with you, Frank?"

He wonders the same thing, but he doesn't tell her that either. The words that come out of his mouth are these: "I can't. I shouldn't. But I am."

He really shouldn't be asking this of her. He knows what kind of man her father is and what he does. He knows that she didn't have the chance to grow up in a normal environment, and yet he is asking this of her.

One of her hands escapes the nest he's made with his own, and he accepts the fact that she is going to leave. However, she surprises him when she uses that hand to wipe the first tear that just came out of the corner of his eye. Her warm hand cups his cheek and they remain in silence, she on the sofa, he on his knees. He dares look into her eyes and is surprised again; because now her eyes convey nothing but sadness and what he doesn't allow himself to believe is love.

They sleep in the same bed that night. He holds her tightly, afraid that she might disappear any moment. When he wakes up just as the first rays of sunlight begin to filter through his window, though, he finds there. Her eyes are pink and puffy from crying - he wonders whether she has slept at all - and her makeup has run down her cheeks, leaving a trail of mess on her face, but she's still there and she's the most beautiful thing that he has ever seen. She appears quite calm and there's only acceptance in her eyes now.

He wants to kiss every inch of her, to convey his gratitude for her staying, for her acceptance with each kiss, with every caress. But he doesn't know if he should. He's not sure where they're standing right now. He's dancing on rotten ice now; one wrong step and he'll fall into the abyss, one wrong step and he'll lose her.

She kisses his lips softly and briefly and it's the sweetest kiss he's ever had. It tastes like absolution.

"I love you too, Frank."


End file.
